


Hesitation Waltz

by Carriwitchets



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Castle politics, F/M, post-war shenanigans but no spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24192832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carriwitchets/pseuds/Carriwitchets
Summary: Dorothea was wooed by his sunshine and warmth, but she is still just a once-opera lead in unfamiliar territory. Ferdinand needs someone he can trust to be by his side. There’s a lot of work to be done in the aftermath of the war, and at home, there is so much to adjust to.It’s like learning a new dance together: its unfamiliarity means there will always be stumbling blocks along the way. But they step forward together nonetheless.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Dorothea Arnault
Comments: 18
Kudos: 81





	Hesitation Waltz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nyavericked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyavericked/gifts).



> This is a birthday present for one of the most precious people in my life. Sometimes, a birthday fic just has to be about domestic castle politics. Don't question it too hard.

There was always light in their home.

This was by Ferdinand’s design, Dorothea knew; early on, when first arriving at his family’s estate, she’d been startled by the grim and foreboding design of the parapets and curtain walls. It had been more a castle than a manor, built long ago for the simple purpose of protecting the nobles it housed from the commoners they ruled over.

Or so it had seemed to her, when she stepped inside for the first time, her arms wrapped tightly around herself and dark circles under her eyes.

But things had changed. No, that was unfair, wasn’t it? Things had not passively changed. _Ferdinand_ had been the one to change them. He’d opened up the outer curtain walls, the drawbridge, the doors and windows. He’d rebuilt and reenvisioned his childhood home until it was something Dorothea could see herself living in. Until there was _light_.

Now, even when walking along the inner hallways of their home, Dorothea could hear the clatter and chatter of everyone milling about the inner bailey of the castle. Once Ferdinand had opened it up, it had become a popular place for commerce and trade, people setting up tiny stalls to sell their wares to those who passed through to speak with the von Aegir family. It delighted Dorothea, honestly; the light, the openness, the chatter and gossip of everyone around made the whole place feel alive in a way that it most certainly had not been when she’d first arrived. She was smiling now, humming softly to herself as she walked, her arms tucked neatly behind her back. She could hear, even from inside, the loud conversation between an elderly woman explaining to her daughter how to hawk her wares in a way that would bring everyone to their stall, pride in the woman’s voice both in herself and her daughter, and their way of life. It warmed her even more than the sunshine spilling through the high windows and into the hall.

A haughty, sharp sniff interrupted her walk, the noise like ice water poured down her back. It brought Dorothea back immediately to her time on the streets, to the sorts of people who would stare down at her with a sneer of disgust because she was dirty and emaciated and begging, all because she didn’t have _enough_ , even though they had surplus they refused to share. She turned, pinpointing the noise immediately, her eyes narrowed.

The rickety man who stood with his arms crossed, surveying the bustle of the courtyard below was familiar to her after her few months here, though only vaguely. Dorothea took a moment to search her memory; she’d been introduced to the household staff early on, and while she had taken to many of them immediately, especially the lowest of the hired help, some of their names still escaped her. This man’s name was one of them. Dorothea didn’t want to admit to it, but it was most likely spite that kept her from remembering it.

This man was the seneschal, the steward of Ferdinand’s household. He managed the staff, he managed their supplies, and from all accounts, he was even very good at his job. But to her, he was simply a petty man who was drunk on what little power he could get his grubby hands on, and the few lands he’d been rewarded by the von Aegir family for his service only seemed to inflate his ego further. He had never sneered at her in particular, but…

The way he stared down at the commoners littering the bailey now was unmistakable. Next to him was his assistant, a meek young woman that Dorothea took a moment to place--right, her name had been Brinley--who said nothing.

“Like cattle,” he said, disgust ringing in every word. “They litter the place, taking advantage of our lord’s generosity with absolutely no comprehension of the kindness he grants them. Disgusting.”

It wasn’t surprising, Dorothea told herself, as she felt her breath catch in her throat. He seemed like exactly the sort of man who would feel this way. He was exactly the sort of man who had made her life a living hell before she’d been picked up by the opera, only to change his tune as soon as he saw her onstage. Or was she just projecting…?

“Excuse me,” she said brightly, stepping towards the pair. The man jumped, and Brinley stared at Dorothea with eyes nearly as round and wide as a clockface. She would really have to apologize to the poor girl later for what she was about to do, wouldn’t she? Dorothea thought that with sincere ruefulness.

She shouldn’t do this. Dorothea knew that. Her own position was only stable due to Ferdinand, not herself. That was something that chafed, no matter how she looked at it. Everyone had seemingly accepted her, but wasn’t it only because she had walked into this old place arm in arm with him? Wasn’t this exactly how these people had been looking at her behind her back?

She shouldn’t do this. But Dorothea hadn’t survived all she’d survived to stop being herself just because of the pecking order of an old, stale castle. “Did I just hear you compare those kind people to cattle?”

The man gathered himself up, dragged in a breath, and… processed who she was. She could see the very moment that he realized that she was Dorothea--though she wondered what, exactly, went along with her name in his mind. The commonborn, dirty piece of cattle that his lord had picked up and dragged along with him into his home? Perhaps something like that.

She was smiling as he bowed his head, muttering some faint apology, but there was a bitterly wry tilt to it, and when he excused himself, she didn’t chase after him or demand more. Brinley followed him quickly with a bow of her own, eyes still wide.

Dorothea stood there for a long moment, watching them go, one hand on her hip and the other wrapped around her waist--only to be hit with it suddenly. The man’s name was Chadwick.

She frowned to herself, and resolved to forget it again as soon as she possibly could.

* * *

“Dorothea, my light, my queen!” Ferdinand burst into the room to sweep her into the most elaborate of hugs, spinning her around and pressing his lips to her forehead. She smiled despite herself. Her every instinct screamed to play coy, but it was a lost cause around him; Ferdie always managed to break right through all of it with his plain, simple sincerity.

“Ferdie, I swear your greetings grow more elaborate by the day,” she said instead, resting her hands on his shoulders to get a good look at him. She knew better than anyone how tired he had been, how exhausting attempting to wrangle his own home into some semblance of control after the war had been on him. And that was even before his work as Prime Minister, something that only ate up even more of his time.

He hadn’t been sleeping well, though it had been improving. Now that he was home from his brief visit to the capital, she wondered if it had gotten worse again.

“Nonsense,” he said, just as chipper and cheerful as he’d been in their school days. “If they grow more elaborate, it is only because you grow more radiant. I have to make certain to not understate anything about you.”

“Honestly, Ferdie!” Dorothea laughed, flattered and knowing full well that _he_ knew she enjoyed the praise and attention. He swung her around once more, and then set her down on top of his own boots. She stayed there, shifting up to her tiptoes to press her lips to his gently.

And then, more sincerely and softly, she said, “Welcome home. It really isn’t the same here without you.”

There was something even brighter in his expression when he met her eyes after that. “It is good to be home, truly. How has everything been here?”

Dorothea hadn’t been expecting the question, even though she knew that was foolish; Ferdinand was that sort of soul, gentle and kind and eternally thoughtful. How had everything been here…?

It would have been easy. All she would have had to do was bring up what had happened, and she knew Ferdinand would do something about it. It was so easy as to almost be laughable, and it was… the last thing she wanted to do, Dorothea slowly realized. If she did that, not only would she be counting on Ferdinand to handle each and every problem she came across, but she would basically be abusing his power in much the same way.

_Don't drones keep the queen safe from other bugs? I like the sound of that._

That’s what she’d told him, back when Ferdinand had slowly worn her down and taught her that not all nobles were the scum she’d thought they were. But now… now, she felt as though perhaps it was her turn to do the protecting.

This was her home too. That made it her responsibility as well. And Dorothea wasn’t the same scared little girl she was, back when men like Chadwick had made her life so difficult. Decision made, she smiled up at Ferdinand brightly, shaking her head, and hoped the expression was sincere enough.

“Everything has been just fine,” she said, crossing her fingers behind her back, and telling her first proper lie since the end of the war.

Still, it was worth it to see the lines around his eyes ease as he smiled, his shoulders slumping as he relaxed. “I’m famished,” Ferdinand declared, straightening again. He bowed, and then offered his arm to her, gesture far too courtly. “Would you be willing to join me for dinner?”

“I’d love to,” Dorothea responded, taking his arm with a laugh, and pushing the rest to the back of her mind.

* * *

One of Dorothea’s new duties as lady of the von Aegir estate was to assist Ferdinand in his judgements and decisions. In truth, it had been plenty plain just from the faces of Ferdinand’s fellow nobles and cohorts that they would have rather she _not_ sit in on the meetings, much less have any sort of voice in them. But Ferdinand had carried on with his usual indefatigable spirit, and so Dorothea’s spot was now at his right hand while they discussed the various issues that plagued his lands.

Dorothea was almost certain that there was no time she loved Ferdinand more than when he gestured for her to sit, smiling brightly, and ignoring each and every dissatisfied stare that followed them both.

They grew used to her presence, slowly. Eventually, they no longer stared when she walked in. The scoffs had all but stopped when she interjected her opinion, though if that was because they were starting to respect her opinion, or because Ferdinand pinned the culprit with a very displeased stare whenever it happened she wasn’t entirely sure. Either way, Dorothea had her place at these meetings, and she knew it. Her role, often, was to give Ferdinand her wisdom, and the knowledge she’d gained from her life on the streets. Ferdinand was kind, but he hadn’t experienced the things she had. He was an idealist, and often, he forgot or was unaware of just how harsh the lives of those born without privilege could be.

The topic on the table today was that of handling criminal law. Ferdinand was aghast to learn that trial by ordeal was still common. Dorothea, who had seen plenty of it herself, was not.

“That is such an archaic practice!” Ferdinand declared, lips pressed into a thin line. “Determining a person’s guilt based off of their ability to float or sink, or carry a hot cauldron, or--or anything of the sort is frankly ridiculous.”

“But my lord,” one of the other major landholders protested, his chin lifted. “While we are not arguing against abolishing the practice, it must be replaced with _something_. There are still criminals.”

Ferdinand frowned, a darker shadow crossing his face. Dorothea had a good sense of what he was thinking of; they’d both seen plenty of people preying upon the weak or helpless during the war, taking advantage of the chaos to take what little people had. She reached out to rest a hand on his arm, and he flashed her a small smile.

“Then we replace it,” he said, straightening in his chair again. “With the capital’s system. They use a system of jurors--of learned men of status who decide upon guilt based on the cases presented. We can replace it with that. It certainly would be less barbaric.”

There weren’t many displeased faces staring back at him; it seemed like a reasonable enough suggestion. Of course they felt that way. The jury would thus be their own peers staring back at them, if they were to ever find themselves at the mercy of the court. Ferdinand nodded.

“You can’t.” The voice was Dorothea’s, and even she looked startled, lifting a hand to cover her lips.

She’d never outright contradicted him, not here, until now.

Ferdinand blinked. “Dorothea? My love? Why not?”

The others stared at her. She could imagine what they were thinking--unlearned, ornamental, that she _didn’t belong here_ , and her thoughts were thrown into disarray. She dragged in a deep breath, lips trembling.

She knew why not. In her soul, embedded in her very being, she knew. She knew that men with power weren’t always the most fair, and she knew that they could be bribed. She knew that in a dispute between a nobleman and a commoner, with a jury of nobles, they would side with their peers every single time. She’d seen it for herself. Those innocent people, those commoners would lose everything for the sake of that privilege.

But with all of those eyes on her, all of those disparaging expressions, Dorothea found the words dried up in her throat.

“Dorothea?” Ferdinand said again, expression concerned. His tone was softer still, and he reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. She looked at him, and whatever he saw in her face, it was enough. He lifted her hand, brushing his lips to the back of her knuckles, and stood.

“We’ll table the issue for now,” he said, and at the susurrus of discontent that erupted afterwards, he simply lifted a hand. “That is my decision. We will return to it tomorrow and come to a consensus at that time. This is not a minor problem to make hasty decisions about.”

They still looked displeased, Dorothea thought to herself, but they didn’t argue. Ferdinand did have that sort of charm and charisma… and power, of course. She couldn’t forget, ever, that Ferdinand had the sort of power she, even at the peak of her fame, never, ever had. She’d once resented him for that. Now… now she wasn’t sure how she felt about it, only that she still loved him despite it.

Ferdinand took her hand again, and gently tugged on it, urging her to stand and come with him. Getting out of that stifling room sounded more appealing than anything had in a long time, and Dorothea did not hesitate to follow him. Ferdinand did not stop, continuing to walk quietly, her fingers held gently but firmly in his own.

And as ever, Dorothea followed.

When they stepped out into the cool evening air, it almost surprised her; she hadn’t paid any mind to where they were going. The level of trust she had for Ferdinand was really something else; to think that she’d finally reached the point of trusting a man to the point that she would follow him wherever he went, and it had happened without her even noticing…

The fresh air was a relief, though, and Ferdinand stopped there, dragging in a deep breath himself. Then he turned to her. “I’d like to show you something, if that is all right.”

She nodded, of course; she even mustered up a small smile and a rueful, “I’ve already followed you this far, Ferdie.”

He smiled in response, relief dancing in his eyes, and continued. He led her to a small plot of freshly turned earth tucked in the corner of the well-tended garden. This one spot wasn’t quite so well-tended, though there were green plants growing. They were disorderly, though; it was extra apparent when next to the plants the gardeners took such careful care of.

Dorothea blinked. “Is there a new gardener here…? This looks like it was done by a child,” she said, and when Ferdinand winced and rubbed the back of his neck, it all clicked.

“Ah… that hurts, though I cannot say it is entirely undeserved,” he sighed. “This is mine. I have asked the gardeners to teach me, but all of the planting and care is my own.”

Dorothea knew that an apology wasn’t what he was looking for. Instead, she crouched next to the small plot, peering at it curiously.

“What is it you’re growing, Ferdie?” she asked.

Ferdinand’s response, when it came, was so warm and full of love that it took her breath away. “I am growing roses, of course. To me, they are the most beautiful flower there is, thorns and all.”

She lifted her head, and Ferdinand was staring back at her, and only her. When he offered her his hand, she took it, and allowed him to pull her back up to her feet.

“Now,” he said, expression growing a bit more serious. “Would you mind telling me why we should not follow in the footsteps of the capital and implement that jury system?”

Dorothea took a deep breath, and found that both the breath and her words came easily. “Oh, Ferdie… it isn’t the jury system that is the problem.”

Maybe it was just because they were in the dark together, with nobody else around. Maybe it was because it was Ferdinand, and she knew that he would not judge her, even when she grew choked up to remember the people she’d once known who were most likely still in prison for crimes they did not commit, or when she murmured so softly that it could have just as easily been her in those jail cells if not for the opera.

Ferdinand listened, and Dorothea spoke, and they stood together in the dark by the half-grown roses and worked on the problem together.

* * *

“You didn’t tell him?”

The voice startled Dorothea out of her reverie so sharply that she jumped and reached into her mind for the spells she could still recite from memory from having cast them so many times on the battlefield. Her heart pounded, one hand raised as if to cast, power crackling around her fingertips--and then she came back to herself, swallowing and lowering her hand.

Chadwick (as she hadn’t been able to get his name properly out of her head again, much to her chagrin) stared back at her, either unafraid or, as was much more likely, unaware of just how close to death he’d been.

“I…” Dorothea shook her head, pressing a hand to her chest over her heart, trying to calm down. “Pardon me? Tell who?”

The man looked unimpressed, arching an eyebrow in response, but she chose not to take that as a slight; she’d never seen him look anything but unimpressed, after all. Except when he looked disdainful, of course.

“Lord von Aegir. You did not tell him what I said?”

Dorothea blinked. It was true, but she was a little surprised despite herself; she hadn’t thought he’d have the gall to confront her about it. But she supposed it was obvious enough; Ferdinand had never hesitated to stomp out any such behavior that he felt was undignified of a noble. Noblesse oblige: that was one of his favorite phrases.

Dorothea straightened, brushing off her dress more for something to do with her hand than anything else.

“I fail to see how that is any of your business,” she said stiffly in return, but something kept her feet rooted in place. She could have easily walked away then, and she knew he wouldn’t have dared to follow. But… perhaps it was his courage in confronting her. She wanted to know what he was thinking, and why he was here. She wanted, perhaps, to give him a chance. After all, if she hadn’t given Ferdinand a chance… she wouldn’t be here, with this happiness she’d been given.

“If my lord had overheard me saying such things,” the man said, looking away with a sour twist to his mouth, “I am certain a strongly worded reproach would have been the least of it.”

Dorothea couldn’t help herself; she tilted her head, expression curious. “Why did you say it, then?”

Chadwick’s lip curled. “It is the truth, and that is why I said it. I believe what I said, and will not take that belief back simply because you disapprove.”

Well, she supposed a man changing his entire set of beliefs because she’d frowned at him wouldn’t have been a very strong indicator of his character, though Dorothea couldn’t help but think that in this one instance, it would have made her life easier. Still, this was unexpected honesty, and she propped a hand on her hip.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked, just as frankly. “I could still tell Ferdie everything you’re saying.”

He frowned. “You won’t.”

There was such certainty in those words that for a moment, Dorothea almost felt tempted to go tell Ferdinand at just that moment, just to prove him wrong. But then her senses caught back up with her, and she frowned. He shook his head at that frown, sensing her disapproval.

“I do not… mean that as an insult.” The very words seemed to take a gargantuan effort for him to say, but it did stop Dorothea from saying anything, surprise on her face.

“You have clearly decided to handle the issue on your own,” he continued, face pinched. “I do not think you are the sort to go back on that now. It is… not entirely unadmirable.”

Gods damn it, he was right, too. As much as she wanted to argue it, to argue the lackluster backhanded compliment, he was right. She’d decided she was going to handle this on her own. Going to Ferdinand now would undermine all of that.

“Am I cattle too?” she asked, the frankness of the conversation making her bold. She’d been dancing on eggshells for so long with these people, trying to be exactly what was expected of her. She hadn’t wanted to make Ferdinand’s already difficult role even more difficult for him. But right now, speaking entirely frankly as the person she was was honestly....refreshing.

Chadwick winced. “That was… a poor choice of words. You are not. Being von Aegir’s choice alone makes you greater than that. Still… I have to admit that I still do not entirely see what it is that convinced him, beyond a pretty face.”

She’d heard that one before. It no longer really had the power to hurt her, though it did make her roll her eyes. Still, even so… Dorothea felt as though she was beginning to understand this unhappy, pitiful man in front of her, whether she wanted to or not. With that understanding, she felt as though she’d been given a weapon of sorts.

“Then I’ll convince you otherwise,” she said, tone steady and calm, so much so that she even surprised herself. But in this, at least, she felt confident. This much, she could do all on her own, without needing any assistance.

The seneschal looked skeptical, but he didn’t argue it. Instead, stiffly, he said, “We shall see. I merely wished to find out why you kept my words to yourself. Now that I know, I will take my leave.”

A beat, and he remained there a moment longer. He added, tone icy, “This household is mine to keep in order. You may live here now too, but do not forget that fact.”

He bowed his head, equally as stiff as his words, and she watched him go, a hand still propped on her hip. With a faintly exasperated huff, Dorothea blew a strand of her hair from her face. That man was probably never, ever going to accept her, was he? That was fine. She was well-practiced; she could easily deal with his disdain. But this was her home and her life now, and she wasn’t happy to take such a passive role in it. He would find that out for himself soon enough.

With that resolve in place, she squared her shoulders, turned on her heel, and began to walk.

* * *

If one were to ask Ferdinand, Dorothea knew that he would be the first to say that she was incredible at charming people. Dorothea didn’t exactly see it that way; rather, she just knew that people were rather predictable, and that all she had to do was play to their preferences. This was the truth not only for flirting with men, but also for learning about anyone. Once you knew a person’s likes and dislikes, it was easy to become their friend.

Some would call that manipulative, but Dorothea knew quite differently. Her intentions were sincere. She truly did want to be their friend, and she truly did want to get to know them--at least, in the case of these people.

That was what brought Dorothea out to the bailey that day. Out here, very few people actually recognized her, especially wearing the understated dress she was in; she was more or less invisible in the colorful crowd that the inner walls tended to attract. Dorothea preferred it that way. Inside the walls of the manor proper, people always were stopping to bow to her. She couldn’t go anywhere without feeling eyes on her.

At least this way, she was just herself, only as charming to others as she herself could be.

Dorothea didn’t exactly have a plan; at first, she just strolled wherever her feet took her, admiring the stalls and ducking out of the way of people moving to and fro. The amount of work it took to keep a manor of this size functioning was substantial, Dorothea knew, but it was still one thing to know and another to see it in action.

She stayed well out of the way of those bringing supplies, and equally out of the way of the guards--it hadn’t been that long, and weaponry still brought her right back to those days. But that still gave her plenty of space to roam, and so she did.

Dorothea was peering at the beautiful weave work of a no-nonsense appearing woman who actually had the most beautiful smile Dorothea had ever seen--which she very gladly informed her of--when she felt a gentle tug at her dress. Dorothea glanced down, almost to be nearly blinded by the bright toothy grin of a young girl.

“Miss, miss, you’re sooo pretty!” the little girl chirped, beaming up at Dorothea.

Dorothea’s heart melted instantly, and she crouched down to smile at the girl, reaching for her hands to hold them in her own. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you. But do you know who’s even prettier than me?”

The girl gaped at her. “Who…?”

Dorothea reached up, gently tapping the girl on the tip of her nose. “You.”

The way the girl blushed was a sight to behold, red from the tips of her ears down to her neck, and Dorothea smiled indulgently. This was exactly what she needed sometimes, wasn’t it? Sometimes, she needed to get away from the stuffiness of the nobility, and back to simply _talking_ to people.

“Come see my mama’s stand, miss! You’ll like it a lot!” The little girl tugged at Dorothea’s hand eagerly, and obediently she stood and allowed her to tug her towards her mother. They didn’t have far to go; after dodging the crowd, they soon came upon the makeshift, shoddy stall. It barely looked like it was remaining standing, but the young woman behind it was cheerful nonetheless--until she spied the little girl, leading Dorothea forward.

“Aida!” she looked more exasperated than truly afraid, and Dorothea supposed this little girl had to have an adventurous streak. The young woman confirmed her theory as she continued, “What have I told you about running off?”

“Sorry, mama,” Aida said, sounding not at all sorry, and then she towed Dorothea towards the stall properly. “Look, miss! My mama makes the most amazing things!”

When Dorothea leaned over the stall, she found that little Aida’s appraisal was completely accurate. There were small bouquets of dried flowers, delicately preserved. They looked like they would blow away at the lightest of stiff breezes, and yet they held their shape.

“Oh, they’re beautiful,” Dorothea breathed out, reaching out as if to touch--and then tugging her fingertips back before she could actually make contact. She didn’t want to disturb a single petal of the woman’s work.

The stallkeeper wiped her palms on her apron, clearing her throat. “Thank you, ma’am. They keep quite well, so I was hoping Aida and I could scrape together some extra gold.”

“Is that right…” Dorothea murmured, inspecting the flowers thoughtfully, a plan slowly beginning to take form in her head. She straightened, decision made, and smiled at the woman.

“Actually, I would like to purchase all of them. Do you happen to have extra begonias?”

* * *

It took the entirety of the afternoon bleeding right into evening, and the generous assistance of many of the staff to finish Dorothea’s project. They helped out of the kindness of their own hearts, and Dorothea made a mental note to find a way to thank them somehow. Honestly, no matter how stifling this place could feel, there were good people in its walls too.

And the stifling nature of it was getting better rather quickly.

Dorothea arrived for dinner promptly, settling herself into her seat contentedly; she was starting to adjust to the manor-wide dinners they had, rather than small, intimate affairs. Ferdinand had explained to her how much easier it was on the cooks to cook everything at once rather than attempt to feed everyone at different, staggered times, and that had sealed the deal for Dorothea; she wanted to make the lives of everyone who worked so hard here easier in any way she could. So it was that she had to adjust to eating dinner alongside Ferdinand, and also the household management.

Tonight, though, she was actually excited for dinner, and there was a bright, almost angelic smile on her face as she waited for the others to arrive. Chadwick was one of the first; he had a stack of documents in his hand, and was looking them over intently as he walked into the dining hall. Politely, though, he put them away as soon as he stepped in, and then… he stared.

Personally, Dorothea thought it was rather tastefully done. There were dried flower arrangements decorating the entirety of the hall, from the windowsills to the doorways. They were beside the table, along the wall… they brightened up the room delightfully, as far as she was concerned. And, naturally, it had not been done under the order of a certain seneschal, who was still far too used to a household under his own control.

She watched it sink in, and then watched his eyebrows draw together in distaste and frustration. He scanned the hall, and then his eyes fell on her, and it all clicked.

Dorothea smiled at him beatifically.

Chadwick stepped forward, opening his mouth to say something, and that was when Ferdinand swept in. He paused only a moment at the dramatic change in the dining hall, and then brightened.

“Well now. _This_ is a welcome change,” he said cheerfully. “Well done, Chadwick. I never expected such thinking from you, but it really does brighten up the entire room, does it not?”

Then he moved to the table, leaving the gaping man behind him. As per his norm, Ferdinand paused to lift Dorothea’s hand in his own to gently press his lips to her knuckles, and then he took his seat, still thoroughly cheerful.

Over Ferdinand’s shoulder, Dorothea quirked an eyebrow at Chadwick, who was still struggling to regain his composure. The look he gave her was nearly venomous, and Dorothea knew that she hadn’t won him over by any means here--if anything, she’d only taken a step back. But she’d shown him, too, that the entirety of the household wasn’t under his control, and that she was a force of her own to be reckoned with, and she’d done so without undermining him publicly or outright humiliating him.

And with that in mind, Dorothea decided that she could absolutely consider this moment her win.

* * *

Dorothea was running a brush through her hair in her room, humming a soft song beneath her breath, when a knock rang out gently. She tilted her head, but there was really only one person she could imagine visiting her at this time of night--and she lifted her head with a smile to call out, “Come in, Ferdie.”

He did so promptly, gently shutting the door behind her and walking to her side. Dorothea turned her face up for a kiss, and he pressed his lips gently to her forehead, before he filched the brush from her and began to gently run it through her hair. That was just as well, Dorothea decided, settling contentedly.

“That was quite the ploy you pulled on old Chadwick today,” Ferdinand said conversationally, and Dorothea nearly bolted around to stare at him before the tug on her hair from the brush reminded her to stay in place. She winced and didn’t move.

“You knew?” Dorothea gaped at his reflection in the mirror.

Ferdinand grinned a little despite the situation. “This is my childhood home, and it is precisely the sort of castle that has many little hidden passageways and the like. As a child, I used to play in them. Now, they make for convenient ways to hear what is happening in my own home.”

Dorothea sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. She should have known. But even knowing that he had known the whole time, she still didn’t feel apologetic, and that must have shown on her face when she lifted her chin again.

“I heard what I presume to be the second conversation,” Ferdinand continued, running the brush through her hair a few more times before he set it aside. “After that, I assumed it was only a matter of time before you chose to do something.”

She planted her chin in her hand for a moment, expression rueful, before she turned in her seat to look up at him properly. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He offered her his hand, and she took it, allowing him to tug her to her feet.

“I wanted to see how it would play out,” he admitted. “And as ever, you defy even my wildest imaginings. Begonias, Dorothea? Truly?”

The way her lips curved into a grin was a little wicked at that. “Do you think that he knows flower language? I wanted to make certain that, if he did, my message would come across loud and clear.”

Ferdinand cut her off with a kiss, scooping her close with an arm around her waist.

“I understand why you did this,” he said, leaning in to press his forehead to hers. A beat, and he added ruefully, “At least, I believe I understand. I may require another hint or two to be totally sure. You can be quite complicated.”

Despite herself, Dorothea’s lips twitched in amusement.

“I do wish you would have told me,” Ferdinand continued. “But you were not in the wrong to not tell me, either. This is your home too, after all.”

There was something validating about it, and something settled in Dorothea’s heart to hear Ferdinand acknowledge it. In a way, this was a battle for her place here as much as anything else, and she was grateful that he understood that much.

Still, he continued. “In the future, would you tell me when such things are happening? You are welcome to tell me to do nothing, and I will listen. Is that a fair request?”

Dorothea took a moment to consider it, and then nodded. It seemed fair to her. Possibly, it was fairer than she deserved, but then--that was Ferdinand for you. Scrupulously kind, scrupulously honest… truly the epitome of the perfect noble, if such a thing could exist.

He smiled, though, and seemed content with her agreement, and what could she do with that but smile herself? He was so radiant like this, when he was happy. The knowledge that she could bring that look to his face was still something that thrilled her.

“Oh, Ferdie…” she sighed, eyes sliding shut as she soaked up the moment. “At times, I feel as though I don’t deserve you.”

His response came immediately, firm and serious. “If you feel that way, it is still thanks to you. After all, you are the person who makes me better.”

Ferdinand scooped her up closer still. “You are the one who makes me better, Dorothea. It is thanks to you that I am who I am today--and not merely a bee.”

She laughed in response to that, shaking her head, but very willingly wrapped her arms around his neck to keep herself close. “Are you still hung up on that? Honestly, that was ages ago!”

“It was that very conversation that brought us here,” Ferdinand said seriously. “I have no intentions of ever forgetting it.”

Dorothea smiled. It seemed, somehow, that she was always smiling when Ferdinand was there, lighting up her life.

“There’s something else I’ve been keeping a secret from you, Ferdie.”

The look on his face, not far from that of a kicked puppy, almost made her tug him closer, but Dorothea held out. Just for the moment. He frowned. “What else is there?”

She pulled him in again, tugging him close by the front of his cravat, and murmured, “It’s that I love you.”

And then she sealed the words with a kiss.

There were still plenty of concerns to be had, she knew. She wasn’t going to be accepted full heartedly just because Ferdinand loved her, and there would always be people who looked down on her for her birth. But in that moment, none of that mattered. If she came up against a challenge, if she came up against something she did not like? Well, then she would simply have to change it, with the full support of the man she loved and who loved her in turn.

After all, she was Dorothea Arnault, soon to be a von Aegir, and she had so much work to do.


End file.
